PUBLIC LIVES

PUBLIC LIVES; He Loves New York. That's Why He's Selling It.

By ROBIN FINN

Published: September 24, 2003

ANYBODY thirsty? In Joseph M. Perello's office suite, there's Snapple by the caseload. After all, drinking the stuff is tantamount to a civic duty now that Snapple is paying for the privilege of being the official un-cola of New York City.

The way Mr. Perello, the city's first chief marketing officer, sizes things up from his generic new office at 1 Liberty Plaza, all of New York City is a brand. A brand deserving of deep-pocketed sponsors. A hot commodity that, according to one survey of the universe's most desirable brand names, clocks in at an enviable, infinitely marketable 13th out of 2,300. Imagine the possibilities; he sure has -- everything from the official footgear of the Police Department to the official undergarments of the Fire Department.

Think big and blush boyishly: That's the M.O. of Mr. Perello, 35, a gregarious, immaculately groomed go-getter with prior sales coups like one million N.F.L.-affinity credit card accounts at MBNA America and the doubling of Yankees sponsorship revenues. All delivered with a perpetual smile; not even working in a skyscraper next to ground zero gets him down. ''Exactly the opposite!'' he says. ''It fires me up.'' That and the caffeine in his diet Snapple iced tea.

With a target of $50 million in annual revenue from 10 to 12 corporate sponsors -- one deal done, a second pending -- he predicts he'll be ahead of schedule by the end of 2004. Piece of cake! Reminds him of the time at Delta Tau Delta when, trading on his University of Delaware fraternity's obnoxious reputation, he cooked up a vat of chocolate pudding, poured it into pie shells and charged passers-by $5 for the privilege of slamming pies into frat-boy faces. He raked in $500 for charity in less than three hours; he fondly recalls it as his first lesson in capitalizing on a brand.

Now he is in a $150,000-a-year government job with an unprecedented mission: solicit corporate sponsors for city agencies and city functions, and develop proprietary city trademarks.

''Certainly New York City is a brand, and it's a damn good one!'' proclaims Mr. Perello, whose every utterance is accompanied by a flurry of arm-waving and the flash of his gold signet ring -- the Perello family crest from Naples, Italy. ''You know that joke: 'How do you get an Italian guy to shut up? Get him to sit on his hands.' Well, that's me,'' he says, sitting on them. Briefly.

But back to his favorite brand, the one he idolized growing up in the suburbs just west of the city in Belleville, N.J. ''We're not in the business of changing the brand -- the city's arguably perfect,'' he says. ''What we're doing is reinventing the way a corporation views a municipality. We're trying to capture, and quantify, the emotions this city inspires.

''That's what your goal is if you're a brand: Become more emotional, because emotional attachment demands a premium price.'' Uh-huh; must be why those monthly car payments move us to tears.

That's Mr. Perello's pet theory: the brand as an emotional property. He sold Mitch Modell of Modell's Sporting Goods on it, and Mr. Modell was so floored that he recommended Mr. Perello to Deputy Mayor Daniel L. Doctoroff for the city marketing post (without telling Mr. Perello). This spring Mr. Perello closed down Perello & Company, the marketing and consulting firm he ran after a muddled foray into UltraStar, David Bowie's online fan sites, and hopped aboard the city brand-wagon.

AND now, a word about that first corporate sponsor, Snapple, which will ante up $166 million -- at the very least, interjects Mr. Perello -- over the next five years as the city's official water, juice and iced tea, and sole supplier of vending machine beverages to its schools.

''It's a no-brainer!'' he says. ''It solves a nutritional problem and brings cash to the city. Who can argue with that?'' Some have, but Mr. Perello, who lives on the Upper West Side with his wife and son and devotes his spare time to renovating a multifamily house he owns in New Jersey, expected some naysaying.

Which brings us to these words on his wall: What does not kill me makes me stronger. What's with that?

''Just a quote,'' says Mr. Perello, forgetting to give copyright credit to Nietzsche. But why? Is his dream job a hard job? ''Because this is New York City. It's a tough place. But if you live by that mantra, you can almost deal with anything. Like the media. Like George Steinbrenner.'' (Mr. Perello, the Yankees' vice president for business development from 1997 to 2000, was twice fired and rehired -- de rigueur for Yankees personnel.)

''I know we're going to be under the microscope in this office,'' he says. ''It's like, when I worked for George Steinbrenner, I could walk into his office with a suitcase full of a million dollars, and he'd complain if it was in twenties and not hundreds. He's never satisfied with anything. In that situation, all you can do is what's right. And I think he made me a better business person.''

So, Circuit City Hall? Too tacky, he says. Corporations should not mistake this for a naming opportunity. Tastefulness, a word Mr. Perello, no longer roly-poly after a year on the Atkins diet, uses with a certain degree of wistful double entendre, is a sponsorship must. ''No advertiser is going to influence policy. But commercialism has driven this city for 400 years. It's why we are who we are.''

And why we are what we drink. Got a civic-minded cola? Mr. Perello's glass is empty.